On the Edge of His Broom
by celestial lelila
Summary: A oneshot story of a glimpse into the emotions of Harry right after Order of the Phoenix.


Disclaimer: I don't even live in England, so what makes you think I might own Harry Potter?

_AN: So, this is my first Harry Potter fanfic. It sort of came to me the other day and though I hadn't planned on writing anymore fanfics once my Ranma fanfic is done, but I figured that there was no harm in getting down this short idea. This is only meant to be a one shot. _

_I've read scenes where Harry is flying around on his broom to blow off some steam, but not something like this done in HP fandom. If it has been done, trust me, when I say I had no foreknowledge of it and no intentions on having stolen it. Anyway, I imagine that everyone has felt like this and Harry definitely deserves the chance to feel some deeper emotion and be a bit more fleshed out in character. Technically, being a children's novel, JK isn't really able to deal with the slightly darker emotions that Harry probably feels, which is a shame as there's so much potential for a more in depth story and characters, but that's why the fandom world exists and why we read and write fanfics. So anyway, here is my shot at things. I hope it's up to par. Please, read, enjoy and review!_

Harry suddenly realized that he needed a break. He needed a release away from everything, everyone and even himself. Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Remus and everyone else all meant well but they were always there, sometimes following him, always watching him, constantly checking up on him. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd been alone for more than a few seconds. He couldn't remember what peace felt like. He needed a way to vent the tension and anxiety he'd been feeling, that had been building inside of him, spreading through him and suffocating him until he couldn't think or breathe and no longer felt like himself. He felt like just a shell of a person who had never exist really. He was so sick of being the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. He just wanted to be Harry Potter, once son of James and Lily, godson of Sirius and honorary nephew of Remus, but he couldn't be any of those things.

He had never been any of those things. His mother and father were dead and he'd never even known them. He had no memories of them and the ones that he did have were given to him by others. The only memory he had of his mother was when a dementor would come by and he'd hear his mother pleading for Voldemort not to kill him. The only memory of his father was when he'd snuck that look into Snape's pensive and found him torturing his least favorite professor. His only memory of them together was when in the graveyard when he'd seen echoes of them emerge from the tip of Voldemort's wand because of the priori incantatem spell. Sirius was now dead, having been killed by one of Voldemort's most faithful death eaters, Bellatrix Lestrange. During the two years, that Harry had known his godfather, they hadn't been able to really spend time together. He'd only been allowed that one Christmas with Sirius while he was still on the run and Harry had been occupied with his trial then. Harry vowed that the vile woman, Bellatrix Lestrange would pay for it all, and not just for what she'd done to his godfather but also for what she had done to Neville's parents who'd she cursed into insanity, and for all the other innocent lives she'd destroyed.

There was still one last Marauder left but he ministry would never allow custody to Remus because of his werewolf status. The people who had raised him had been the Dursleys, who were the worst kind of muggles. Aunt Petunia had been his mother's sister but they hated magic and by extension they hated Harry, so that even a small part of still felt uncomfortable at the idea of him doing magic. It was difficult to overcome lessons that had been literally beaten into him since his first memory. It was a wonder how Harry felt comfortable at all in his own skin.

Harry knew that there wasn't much he could do. He had fought Voldemort and his followers his entire life basically but that was something he had to do. He couldn't let people get hurt like that. He knew all too well how it felt to be hurt to truly wish anyone pain like that.

The only thing he could do was that made Harry who he really was, was fly, but it was dark already and curfew was already in effect. In fact, he was the only person who was still awake. Everyone had long ago went up to bed and even Hermione had given up a few hours ago on her homework for the night, so that Harry was the only person remaining in the Gryffindor common room. Harry still had his Transfiguration homework to do but his thoughts had taken over and he'd lost track of how long he'd been staring at into the fireplace. Harry knew if he didn't do something to ease at least a small part of the world's weight he was feeling that night, tomorrow would be so much worse and he just wasn't sure if he could take another day of it all. Harry decided right then that he was going flying and damn the consequences of breaking curfew.

He'd need his broom first so he quickly sneaked upstairs. Opening his trunk, Harry was gave out a general thank you to any deity out there that this dorm-mates were all heavy sleepers. He grabbed the precious broom that had been a gift from his now gone godfather and came right back down the common room. He'd also had the forethought of grabbing his father's invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map but suddenly thought about how long it would take to actually get through the castle, down all the stairs, past the ghosts and patrolling teachers undetected and across the grounds to the Quidditch pitch, and Harry just didn't want to do all that. There had to be an easier way outside to be able to fly freely, and he suddenly realized that it really was that simple. He could indeed get outside and just be able to fly without any of the sneaking out hassle. He had his Firebolt in hand, so why not open one of the windows and fly out that way? Harry couldn't think of a single reason why he couldn't, so that's what he did. After hiding his things under his favorite chair by the fireplace, Harry opened the window right next to it, hopped onto his broom and flew it right out into the night sky.

The instant the broom had lifted Harry into the night air was like an instant lift of all of the pressure that the wizarding world had placed on him. Letting his instincts take over, Harry pointed the nose of his broom straight down to the ground and he took a dive at an almost perfect 90 degree angle to the ground. Being so high up, there were several long seconds before he had to worry about the ground suddenly coming up so Harry lifted his head and saw the stars turn into the white lines at the high speeds he was heading toward the earth. The air felt like ice as it battered against his body and the air pressure against his chest made it nearly impossible to breath, but Harry felt better than he'd been feeling for a very long time. He had felt that heavy horrible feeling be dropped from his chest and was rapidly falling toward the ground just behind him. He felt like he was racing against that awful pressured sensation to see who would hit the earth first. Harry was sure that he was going past the top of the Firebolt at the rapid incline that he was going and had the sudden realization that he might not be able to pull up from this controlled fall.

There was no fear in that thought. It was just hard, logical realization of the situation, and for a split second, Harry was tempted to just keep going, to let himself fall so fast that there was just no way he could pull up and allow himself to plunge straight into the ground. There was be no way he could survive such a fall. That thought didn't suddenly seem like such a crazy idea. He would be dead and there would be no more prophesy ruling over his life. No more having to fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. No more endangering his friends by just being around them. No more having people think of him like a freak. No more having people gawk at him and stare at his lighting bolt scar. No more having the public watching his every move. He wouldn't have to worry about living with the Dursleys again. He could be with his mother and father. He could be with Sirius again. He could be free for the first time ever. It was sad to suddenly realize that Harry couldn't be free in his own lifetime.

Just as quickly though, he discarded that thought. It was an alluring idea but it wasn't Harry. He had too much to do before he could let himself die. He had no family to live for but he still had his friends and he couldn't let them face things by themselves. Harry had to at least take out Voldemort so that they could live in a safer world. They had family to live for and Harry wanted them to keep those reasons to live, even if he didn't really have any reasons to keep living himself. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville and everyone had so much to live for and deserved life in a Voldemort free world. Besides, Remus was still there. Harry knew Remus would blame himself for not having been there for him enough, even though it wasn't his fault at all. Remus was honorary family and Harry couldn't be selfish and abandon him like that.

So it was for his friends that Harry used all the strength in his arms to pull his nose of his broom upwards and slow down his descent. The ground was looming closer and closer and Harry knew that he had to put all of his focus he felt for his friends and the people he cared about into getting himself out of this fall. His arm muscles felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets with the amount of force it took for him to right his broom and the speed at the which the ground was getting closer was slowing down slightly. He could feel the tips of his shoes brush the top of the grass as he finally flew up and away from the ground. It had been close, and he almost hadn't been able to stop his fall, but he had, and that was all that mattered now.

Still gliding at a rapid pace, he was back up around the castle towers and Harry felt like there was nothing but him, his Firebolt, the magical medieval castle with the forest background, the stars that shone in the sky and reflected in the lake, and the cool night air that gently flowed around him. He had won and he felt better for it. He had raced it, beaten it and come out stronger. Though it would be back later, he'd done it for now and that proverbial weight on his chest was gone for the time being. As Harry stared up at the night sky, he searched for a glimpse of the dog star and felt like Sirius knew what had just happened and that James and Lily were right beside him watching their son. He knew it might have been scary to see. Since if he'd been in his right mind, he'd probably be scared out of his wits once he realized what he'd just done, but he thought that James, Lily and Sirius would be proud of it, and of him too, and that brought just a small smile on his face. It held just a little bit of sadness but it was still a true smile, and it had been a long time since anyone had seen a smile on the face of Harry Potter.


End file.
